


After

by QuillandInkk



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Gilead, Stream of Consciousness, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillandInkk/pseuds/QuillandInkk
Summary: June tries to find her way after escaping Gilead and reconcile relationships with those she knew before, during, and after.
Relationships: June Osborne | Offred & Moira Strand, Luke Bankole/June Osborne | Offred, Nick Blaine/June Osborne | Offred
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	1. 1

1

_June_

June hadn’t felt much of anything since getting out. Everything felt slightly faded and far away. Things had lost their color. The sun wasn’t as bright as it once was, it didn’t warm her skin the way it used to. The blue of sky had faded too. Everything was shades of grays and beiges like this apartment.

_She was alive. She was with Luke, Moira, and Holly._ She had to remind herself often. _Luke. Moira. Holly._ Holly… June’s eyes followed her small form playing with blocks on a small blanket spread across the living room carpet of Luke’s apartment. Soft afternoon light filtered through the sheer beige curtains. The soft murmur of the TV in the background. A ghost of smile twitched at her lips, not quite materializing. Holly was the only light in June’s world and some days, it felt like that wasn’t enough. She hated herself for those feelings.

Moira had moved out to give them space. _To reconnect,_ she had said. Though the both knew it was utter bullshit. There was not much left to reconnect. The June that married Luke all those years ago was not the same June sitting here. Luke had tried in many ways. He gave her space. He didn’t force anything. He was still the kind Luke she loved. He didn’t get upset when she flinched at this touch, a soft graze of his fingers against her arm. He didn’t push her to speak. He didn’t resent her for new abundant shortcomings now. He still hoped that they could overcome this too. But she was different, there was no questioning that.

Eyes down cast, June picked at the frayed edge of the throw spread across her lap. Secondhand like most belongings in this apartment. Canada had been more than accommodating in getting them on their feet. They had even helped June find some editing work she could do part-time from home.

June had moved into Moira’s room. It was small but it was hers and Luke didn’t have to bear witness to her cold unattachment all the time. She hated herself for that too. At least she could disappear for a few hours and give him a break. Luke deserved more than this, more than her. He waited for her and she… She couldn’t even look at him.

Before, she could justify it. When she sent the tape, she just knew they would never see each other again. She could live with him knowing the truth, that she had found some happiness in the pit of despair that is Gilead. That Holly wasn’t Fred Waterford’s child.

But now? Now, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. He waited for her, raised her child from another man. A child supposedly born of love with a now Commander. White knuckled fingers knotted in the blanket, digging into her palms, leaving crescent marks from her nails.

Nick. A slight lick of anger rose within her at the mere thought. It was the only thing she truly felt any more, but even that was fading. The energy just wasn’t there anymore.

“June?” Luke called from somewhere far away. Like a mist lifting, “June?” His voice rang clear to her left.

“Yes?” Her own voice felt far away and lifeless. She mentally added that

Luke inched into her field of vision, she instinctively ducked her head and lowered her eyes. Whether it was out of habit or shame, she didn’t know. Perhaps both.

“This has to end.” Luke’s words were gentle but firm. Her eyes darted upwards to flicker to his face briefly. Concern and hurt deepened the creases in his forehead. June hated that, the look of pity.

“June.” He spoke again. “I think...” A deep intake of breath.

She waited.

“I think,” he began again, this time with more vindication. “I think you need to see a therapist.”

Silence.

He started again, “Moira and I just think-“

“No.” Her nails dug deeper into her palms. With any luck, it’d bleed or at least bruise. At least that way she’d be able to feel something.

A sigh and soft footsteps padding away. That was easy. She glanced nervously toward the kitchen, where Luke had retreated.

It didn’t come as a shock that he and Moira had been talking about her. She had heard them of course. She wasn’t stupid. Hushed whispers over the stove before their dinners together. Pointed looks across the living room.

Her resistance wasn’t out of any sense of denial. Emily and Moira had both started seeing a therapist, even Rita. All the women expressed how much it was helping them process the trauma. That she could do. She could talk about the Red Center, her posting before the Waterfords, how they had all been brutalized, forced to maim others in the Salvagings, to make them just as complicit in the rot that was Gilead. She could even talk about the Waterfords, the constant stress of being surrounding by Guardians with automatic weapons, and the ingrained distrust of everyone around her. But eventually they would run out of the things she was willing to talk about. Eventually, they would try to broach the topics June had filed away. The things that she couldn’t bring herself to discuss.

So, the answer was ‘no’.

June forced herself to stand, dropping the blanket on the small, ratty couch. Luke peaked around the corner of the kitchen, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms. He was always watching. In Gilead, she would have suspected him to be an Eye. She had learned to move silently but his ever-attuned ears never failed to detect her movements. Ignoring his piercing stare, she walked around Holly towards the coat rack, picking up her bag, and not waiting to hear the _snick_ of the apartment door closing behind her.

Luke didn’t follow her. He had stopped trying shortly after her arrival. He had stopped sending Moira after her as well. In the beginning, he would call after her, trying to get her to talk to him. Now, he just let her go. He didn’t expect much from her anymore. She hated that.

The Lucky Lady was a bar located just outside of Little America where a lot of refugees frequented. It had been equated to a symbol akin to Lady Liberty. A symbol that Gilead took no time in destroying. Another casualty.

The atmosphere was thick with despair, the smell of bourbon, and the ache of loss. June started up at the sign, white painted block letters chipping around the edges. The chill of the evening was starting to nip at her cheeks and fingertips. The weather had been fair enough, but the landscape couldn’t seem to shake the last of winter.

She took another long drag from the cigarette poised between her index and middle finger. She only smoked socially, before. Then, during, it was forbidden. _He_ smoked often, just to take the edge off she thought. She understood now. If only to give her hands something to do and to sate an oral fixation she didn’t know she had until now. She exhaled, reveling in the taste of it on her mouth. Now, after, she found herself relying upon the crutches of nicotine and alcohol to soothe her.

Another drag, another exhale, letting the smoke swirl around her face. She flicked the remaining stub of the cigarette to the cement and ground it out with the toe of her shoe before bending to pick it up and toss into a nearby trashcan.

June pushed open the door, bells tinkling above her head. No one looked up from their drinks or gaped at the entrance to see which lost soul found themselves here today. She liked that. They were all lost. She made her way towards an empty barstool and before she had been fully seated, a lowball glass had already been set in front of her: whiskey, neat. She tipped her head in acknowledgement. In another life, she might have been ashamed if the bartender had started pouring her drink before she even sat down. But those feelings had long ago fled.

The burn of the whiskey was her favorite part, greeting it like an old friend with each sip. Before, she had opted for more fruity drinks. After, she preferred something with a bite that would get her where she was going quickly. Finishing the glass, she set it gently on the wooden bar top.

A quick glance around reveled the usual suspects frequenting the bar tonight. Nothing of much interest or consequence for her. They had learned quickly to leave her to her own devices. She didn’t need a drinking buddy. She needed escape.

Escape.

Officially, she had already escaped. She was one of the lucky ones. She had gotten out. But you can’t ever leave.

_The Republic of Gilead, said Aunt Lydia, knows no bounds. Gilead is within you._

June hated that as well, hated that she was right. That even when she was supposed to be free, she was still a slave to her own mind, forever altered. She’d never be okay. Often, she thought she should leave Luke and Holly. They would be better off without her. Hell, he was more of a parent to Holly than she had been since reuniting with them. She could barely find it within herself. But ultimately, she knew she wouldn’t leave. She would just drag everyone within arm’s reach down with her until they too gave up on this sinking ship.

The oak wooden top of the bar was worn, the polish barely gleaning in the low light from overhead. The low light reminded her of the warmth of _his_ apartment. The dim yellow light casting sharp shadows across the room, their faces, their bodies. Her heart clenched.

No. These memories were forbidden.

The bartender slid another glass of amber liquid under her nose. She made quick work of it. She had to drown those thoughts. A hangover hurt a lot less than letting herself feel those things again. June had spent a lot of time burying those things deep within her. Filed away with memories of the Ceremonies. She wanted to feel but not that. Never that.

Another glass. She savored this one. The liquid was only slightly cool as she dipped a finger into the it and trailed it across the lip of the glass.

_This is what I feel like: the sound of glass. I feel like the word_ shatter.

With each sip, June felt her walls slip away. Thoughts designated as off-limits would bubble up, leaving only a whisper before she forced them down again. It was a choreographed dance she rehearsed often.

_Was he okay?_ He’s dead. It doesn’t matter. _Is Hannah well?_ As fucked up as it all ways, the MacKenzie’s did seem to care about her in some twisted way. _They will still give her away before she’s 16 to a husband._

June realized she had a death grip on the glass and forced herself to slowly release the tension in her hand, before she shattered the glass, sending shards into her hands. Now that would let her feel something. She shook her head at the thought, loose blonde waves falling into her face. People would really think she was becoming unhinged.

The sun had since set behind the cityscape and she knew she should be getting back soon. As selfish as she was, she knew how much it worried Luke for her to be gone for too long and if she stayed much longer, she’d fall prey to her vices. Perhaps another night. She quickly finished the remaining whiskey in her glass and left a small pile of rumpled bills on the bar to cover her drinks along with a sizable tip.

Once outside, she lit up another cigarette for the walk home. The city streets were eerily quiet. Most others sought the refuge of their homes and families at night. Some to watch the nightly news to see what was happening with Gilead. Some to check if any others had made it out, by chance a loved one. She found it to be an interesting form of torture. One that not even she subjected herself to.

Mr. Tuello had told her she would need to testify against the Waterfords and their war crimes. She had agreed. A date hadn’t been set yet. Nothing would bring her more satisfaction than seeing Serena Joy and Fred Waterford behind bars for the rest of their natural born lives. Truly, the founders of Gilead deserved far worse but she would take what she could get.

June continued the trek back towards the Little American apartments. The sound of her feet softly thudding off the pavement accompanied by a door closing somewhere and distant traffic was interrupted by the sharp buzz of her cellphone.

Exhaling, June fished it out of her bag. _Luke_ , the screen said. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, contemplating answering it. She was only a few blocks from home, surely he could wait to reprimand her until she was home.

However, a slight nagging feeling in her brain, like worm burrowing into damp soil, made her answer. The heavy feeling of guilt settled in her stomach, so she pressed ‘accept’ and answered the call.

“Hello?”

A sigh of relief followed by “June, you need to come home.”

“I’m on my way.” She began walking again, inhaling from the cigarette, slight annoyance replacing the guilt.

“June…” something was wrong. She stopped again.

“What is it Luke?” Even she could hear the difference in her voice. She actually sounded worried.

Her words were followed by a pause that seemed to go on forever. Her head swam with the possibilities. Had something happened to Holly? Moira? Emily? Dizziness began to overwhelm her. She made the few steps toward a streetlamp to give her some stability.

“She’s here,” His voice cracked, she could tell he was desperately holding back tears. “Hannah. She made it.”

The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering away as her knees greeted the cement. Distantly she could hear Luke’s voice continuing from the phone.

“June?”

“ _June?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not a writer but Season 3 left me wanting more.


	2. 2

2

_Nick_

He did it. Relief flooded through him so strongly that he didn’t care when his hands were cuffed, his rights read to him. He didn’t care when he was forced to his knees.

“Commander Nick Blaine, you are under arrest for acts of war crimes and crimes against humanity…”

He had gotten Hannah out. _That_ is what he was good for. He sagged, the relief giving him temporary release of tension from his entire body. He could take anything after this. His work was done.

He didn’t resist when he was roughly shoved into the back seat of a black SUV. He didn’t try to plead his case - tell them they had it all wrong. He had smuggled out a child. Hannah could finally be with her true family, with Holly, Luke, and June.

Oh God, _June._ He had heard through his informants that June had somehow made it out. She had somehow managed not to fuck up this once or be self-sacrificing, thinking she needed to save more people. He had heard of the children she had gotten out, in the 50s. The pure untainted joy that June had finally saved herself was all he needed to push on. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he bit his lip to hide it. He wasn’t resisting arrest, but he didn’t want to give them any ideas that he was hiding something or being smug.

He needed to remain calm and neutral. He had to repent and pay for his crimes. He would accept any and all punishment with open arms. He could do that now. Now, that his family would be together again, Nick knew he would do whatever it took to make the world right again. After what he did…

An officer climbed in the driver’s seat and flicked off the emergency lights a top the vehicle. He put it in drive and pulled on to the road. Nick barely moved his head to the side to glance out the window. Hannah was already gone in a different vehicle. With any luck, she would be in June’s arms in a matter of hours.

He closed his eyes, the scene replaying behind his closed lids.

_“Go on.” He encouraged her. “You’re safe now. You’ll get to see your mom again.” He tried to smile as they cuffed him and forced him to his knees. He tried to keep his smile towards her. She was frightened to death. “It’s okay, Hannah, go with the nice officer.”_

Before they had separated them, he told them her name was Hannah Bankole, shouted it so there would not be any mistake. He made sure they heard him say that her parents were Luke Bankole and June Osborne. They ripped Hannah from his arms immediately after that.

_“Get her out of here.” An officer yelled. Good, he thought. She didn’t need to bear witness to this._

Nick simply took in the Canadian landscape during the ride. It wasn’t that much different from Michigan and the Midwest. But yet it was so different. The air felt lighter here. He was being arrested but did not fear he would be shot on the spot for some arbitrary transgression. For the first time in _years_ he finally felt as if he could breathe. He knew he was up to his eyes in trouble, but he could breathe. They couldn’t pin the entirety of Gilead on him.

_Complicit_ , that voice in hismind murmured. He didn’t do this all on his own, but he also didn’t do much to stop it until... until June.

But he was a Commander now. They would imprison him for life if just to make an example of him. Nick knew that, had already come to terms with it all. If he was lucky, he would get to see Holly. If God, if there was a god, truly found him worthy... well, he knew he would have prayed for June. To be able to see her at least once... to explain. He could only image what the Swiss told her. A generic, oversimplification is what the Swiss most likely made of his _involvement_.

That’s all it truly was. He should have fought back. His mind replayed the day the Commanders were discussing the Ceremony. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that it was wrong. But he so desperately needed the job and the money to help with his mother’s medical bills and to help Josh. Commander Pryce was forgiving when it came to him needing a little time off. _Just cleaning up this country_ , they told him.

By the time they armed him and told him to shoot back, he was already in too deep. Any resistance on his end and he would have been killed immediately, labeled a nonbeliever. No one had heard from Josh in a long time. They told him either kill or be killed. He didn’t want to die. Not yet. He has felt he still had a lot left to accomplish in this world.

And what did he do? He raped a handmaid and impregnated her with his child. Nick raised his cuffed hands to his face, rubbing his eyes. For fucks sake. He loved June, more than anything. He loved Holly, despite his limited contact with her. In his wildest dreams, they still held a chance at being a family. But June already had a family. A family with Luke and Hannah and he proved his usefulness in getting Hannah out.

A judge and jury might not see it that way though. Handmaids have no say in Gilead, no consent. He was in a position of power. It was easy for his mind to skip from one thing to another. He had heard that Serena Joy Waterford had been arrested for the rape of June. Perhaps they would find him just as guilty. Nick thought he probably deserved it.

June said she loved him back. Was that all just because of his position? Did he intimidate her? Coerce her? The thought made him sick to his stomach but somehow in hindsight, he could see how it looked. She was freer with him than with anyone else in that godforsaken place but that didn’t make things okay. They both would have died if their relationship has been revealed. Just like Eden and Isaac.

The strangling in his throat was reflexive anytime he thought of them. Two pure souls trying to make sense of what Gilead has handed them. For what? They lost their lives. His chest clenched. He tried to save Eden. God, she was just a child. A child brainwashed into thinking her only purpose was to birth children, forbidden to have control over her own body or the right of giving consent. Sentenced to death because she dared to love someone outside of her arranged marriage to a man nearly twice her age.

He had raped Eden. It was against his will as well, but he had to do it to save his own life. He avoided it as long as he could, but June had been right, Eden would have mentioned to someone that he wouldn’t take her to bed.

Nick inhaled deeply, clearing his mind. It has become second nature anytime Eden crept upon him, sinking her claws into him. She was dead but Nick would forever carry her with him.

What he did to her. How he treated her. _That_ was criminal. That’s what he should be locked up for. How he couldn’t protect a 15-year-old girl from the horrors of the world. How he had to steal her innocence from her to keep her from betraying him as gender traitor. How fucked up it all was. He could own that. He would own it all. He would go down with whatever punishment they deemed necessary. That was the last thing he could do to honor Holly, June, and Eden.

No one had consent in Gilead. Even the Commanders were prisoners of their own doing.

-

Nick took in the room. He had been stripped of his black Commander jacket and forced into a standard issue jumpsuit. _Good riddance_ , he thought. He hoped they burned it but knew it would most likely be collected as potential evidence.

The walls were an institutional beige. Nick stared as his reflection in the two-way mirror. It was an interrogation room. He wondered who was on the other side of the glass, observing him like a lab slide underneath a microscope. He flexed his hands in the handcuffs that were secured to the table that was in turn, bolted to the floor. His legs were chained as well. As if he’d run. He had cooperated fully. Although, if he ran, perhaps they would just kill him, put himself out of his misery, and this could all be over.

_No, I deserve this_ , he thought. _This is my penance._

He had a hard time discerning how much time had passed since he arrived. How long had he been sitting in this room? Minutes? Hours? It was impossible to tell. The clock behind him _tick-tocked_ on the wall. He couldn’t crane his neck enough to see the time and the reflection on the two-way mirror wasn’t clear enough.

Nick’s head instinctively swiveled to the door at the sound of footsteps stopping and the knob turning. A man in a navy sportscoat, white shirt underneath, and navy trousers stepped in. He carried a drink carrier with two cups and a leather portfolio under his arm. Nick averted his gaze down toward the table. Cradling his hands together, tracing the lines of one palm with his thumb on the other hand.

The man set his things on the table. “Nicholas Blaine.” He stated, setting a drink in front of him. The cup was beige too. It had a brown cardboard sleeve and a white plastic lid.

The scrape of the chair on the concrete floor across the table had Nick glancing up. The man slipped into the chair, and it scraped against the floor as he scooted into the table.

“Coffee, black.” The man nodded toward the cup in front of him.

Nick hesitated before offering, “Thank you, sir.” His voice was gravely and thick from disuse. He hadn’t spoken since Hannah was torn from his arms. He didn’t want to appear petulant or ungrateful. He didn’t know who this man was or why he was here. He supposed the interrogation would begin here. Perhaps the coffee would come in handy, if only to give him something to do.

“Mr. Blaine, my name is Mark Tuello.” He flipped through his portfolio, pulling some papers from a pocket. He continued, “I’m a representative of the U.S. Government.”

Nick refrained from answering; he wasn’t asked a question. Old Gilead habits die hard.

“Do you know why I am here, Mr. Blaine?” Tuello finally makes eye contact.

Nick finally takes him in. He seemed around 40, crow’s feet creeping in around his eyes. His brow hair was trimmed and styled. His clothes pressed and immaculate. Yet, somehow, he exuded an air of casualness that made Nick’s muscles release a minute amount of tension. No wonder they sent in this guy. He probably makes everyone talk easily. Nick still wasn’t sure what the best course of action was for him.

He cleared his throat, “No, sir.” Nick adjusted in his chair, to allow himself to sit straighter. He reached for the coffee cup, stretching to the limits of the handcuffs.

“I am here to discuss your involvement in Gilead…” Tuello stated the obvious. Nick managed to maneuver enough to allow himself a sip of the coffee. It had been awhile since he had true coffee. It was scarce in Gilead and most definitely wasn’t sent to the front lines of the war effort. He missed it greatly, savoring the flavor on his tongue. It was hot but not enough to burn.

“…and to help _you._ ”

Nick nearly spit his coffee out at that. Instead, he accidently inhaled it, sending him into a raging coughing fit.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Nick’s voice was thin as he coughed again. “I don’t understand.”

“We know a lot about you.” Tuello picked up his papers, “Born and raised in Michigan. Troublesome brother… Joshua. You’ve had an long work history, trouble holding down a steady job until you met Andrew Pryce, your former career counselor.”

Nick swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper despite the supplied beverage.

“We also know you orchestrated the two attempted escapes of June Osborne.” Nick’s heart stopped at her name. “That you were essential in successfully getting her child out. How you got those letters to Luke Bankole.” Tuello studied him, folding his hands across the papers spread in front of him.

Nick felt hot and lightheaded. He knew Holly was safe and had heard that June had made it but knowing for sure, was different. His family was safe, now that he had gotten Hannah across the border. It was all confirmed. Relief so strong crashed through him, he couldn’t breathe. _Safe_.

Tuello continued, “We are also aware of your involvement in Chicago, how you aided the Resistance. And more recently… you escaped with Hannah Bankole.”

Nick met his eyes, they were warm and inviting, another tactic perhaps. So, he didn’t say anything. He once read that people become uncomfortable in silence and feel the need to fill the gaps. So, he learned to embrace the silence, force others to fill it in, giving away more than they had ever intended.

However, it seemed the Tuello also knew this and patiently waited for Nick to respond. He sipped his coffee and jotted down a few notes. Nick wondered what he was writing.

Nick plucked up the courage and decided to propel this meeting in whatever direction it was already headed. He was quite confused. He had been arrested. He was sure he was set to be made an example of, to show the world how Gilead’s Commanders would be treated. He nearly laughed at the thought. _Commander_. He was only promoted to be sent to the front lines. To effectively get rid of him. He knew too much about the Waterfords and other high Commanders. They wanted him to get killed in Chicago as he couldn’t be killed directly without revealing their indiscretions.

“Sir, forgive me, I am still confused. I was arrested for war crimes and crimes against humanity.” Nick flexed his fingers again, the tension rebuilding in his body, across his back and neck, where he carried his stress.

“Just a technicality, of course.” Tuello waved him off, sipping his coffee. Nick mirrored his movements, this time he would wait for him to fill the silence.

Based on the tick tock of the clock, nearly a minute passed before he spoke again. “Mr. Blaine, the U.S. Government is aware of _your_ resistance against Gilead and is prepared to drop the charges, with your cooperation.”

If he hadn’t been chained to the table, Nick was sure he would have slipped out of his seat. Freedom. He had a chance at true freedom.

“You want information.” He stated, his mind already turning, trying to get one step ahead. Its where he was comfortable. If this was true, if he really had a chance at freedom, he had to get ahead of it all. Even it was an elaborate ruse, Nick still wanted to be ahead of it all.

“Exactly.” Tuello smiled and leaned forward. “Do we have an agreement, Mr. Blaine?”

The ticking of the clock in the room returned to the forefront of sounds.

_Tick. Tock._ For once, Nick didn’t know what to do. He was prepared to be pleading guilty to all they threw at him.

_Tick._ Now, he had a chance to see his daughter again, to see June again. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes

_Tock_. He shook his head.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” He hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this. He also hoped that the information he could provide would finally bring Gilead to its knees. He hoped he had enough information to satisfy them, to help the U.S. Government and other national powers, understand the true rot that was Gilead, giving them enough cause to launch a formal invasion.

“Excellent! It’ll be a pleasure working with you, Nick.” He started at the use of his given name. Tuello did not seem phased. He gathered up his papers. “I will have you transferred to a detaining center for the time being. It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Nick nodded, grateful to not be chained and cuffed. Although it had been for that long, his fingers kneaded the skin under the cuffs without thought.

Tuello glanced at his watch as he slid back his chair, the _screech_ echoing in the small room. “I will get that started immediately; you have a visitor scheduled to meet you this evening. I’ll have it moved to the detaining center.”

A visitor?

Nick didn’t let himself hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! Its been wonderful. Again, I am not a practiced writer and I struggle with dialogue. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving (if you're American) and has a great weekend!


	3. 3

3

_June_

Once she had gotten her bearings on the street, June had sprinted back to the apartment, only a few blocks away. She hadn’t exerted herself quite like this in a long time, but she dug deep within herself to propel herself towards their apartment building as fast as possible. _Hannah_ , she kept repeating to herself over and over _._ A mantra that kept her sane enough to keep moving.

Luke was waiting for her outside. She ran straight into him, a sob releasing as soon as her arms wrapped around him. It was the first time she had touched him like this since she first laid eyes on him after arriving in Canada. They had shared a hug, but it had been stiff and awkward like they no longer fit.

But now, now she needed his support and stability, the father of her firstborn child. He held her tight as a sob racked through him as well. Tears streamed down her face. She was terrified that this was a false alarm, that there had been a mistake. She wasn’t sure if she could handle that.

“They have her.” Luke kept whispering to her over and over. “They have Hannah. She is safe.” His voice breaking periodically as he fought his own tears. She had a feeling he was trying to hold it together for her sake. June had willingly surrendered to her own, only able to nod into his shoulder. This first strong emotions she had allowed herself to feel in a long time. His shirt would be soaked with her tears.

“Holly?!” She cried as she remembered her second child, jerking back from his grasp. She clearly wasn’t with Luke. Where was she?

Luke grasped her hands and pulled her back into him. “Shh, I called Moira right after you. She came down immediately.”

June relaxed at his words. Obviously, she was safe. Luke would never do anything to endanger her. Moira was the obvious answer. When she moved out after June arrived, she found a single apartment open on the floor above her and Luke.

It had only been moments, but it seemed like an eternity later that the cab finally arrived to take them to the refugee center. The car ride was silent, aside from the low lull of music from the radio. The city lights were a blur as June stared out the window, still tucked into Luke’s side.

The emotions that flowed through her were too numerous to count. She was beyond excited to be reunited with Hannah, after all this time. But she couldn’t shake the nervousness and fear of uncovering how Gilead had changed Hannah, how _she_ would carry Gilead within her. Scared for how Hannah might adjust to life outside. Scared for how she, herself, might be unable to adjust to having Hannah back. Would Hannah be better off if she left her too?

Before she really had time to gather herself and her thoughts, the car stopped outside the center and Luke ushered her out of the cab. It was eerily quiet; Hannah must not have come in with many others. June’s heart slightly deflated at that. So many people and children still left under Gilead’s thumb. Too many to help.

Luke went to the front desk to check where they were supposed to go. June stood nervously behind him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. God, she would love a cigarette and a glass of whiskey right now, but now was not the time. Her daughter was waiting for her.

“Right this way Mr. Bankole and Ms. Osborne.” A woman with delicate features and a matching voice called June from her thoughts. She was holding open a doorway leading from the main lobby. A light touch of Luke’s hand on her back guided her towards the door and one step closer to Hannah.

-

She didn’t know how she found herself here. One moment she was holding herself back from latching on to Hannah for dear life, reassuring herself over and over that it was really her. Touching her face, her hair, looking into her eyes, anything to know that she was real and in front of her. But she couldn’t do that. Hannah was too confused from all this. June and Luke had resolved not to push physical touch on her until she indicated she was ready. Luke had left with a social worker and Hannah to get a snack and get her a change of clothes from the standard issue Gilead pink girl’s outfit.

They had barely disappeared around the corner of the door when a representative of the U.S. Government, an associate of Mark Tuello, had pulled her aside after Hannah and Luke went to get a snack down the hall. She had made to follow but a man stepped in front of her path.

“Ms. Osborne, a word please.” He was tall, imposing. June fought the fear within her. She was being separated from her family again.

“Um… okay?” She murmured, a nervous laugh bubbling up slightly. He didn’t close the door and that made her feel safer. Luke and Hannah were just a couple doors down.

“Ma’am, my name is James Reed.” He gestured for her to take a seat at the small table and watched as she did. “I am to inform you that your daughter was found with another individual.” He slipped into the chair opposite her, making this much less formal.

June felt her lungs and throat tighten. Who had smuggled her out? Nearly everyone she knew was here in Canada or dead now. Except…

“She was with Nicholas Blaine, ma’am.” He stated, his voice softening upon uttering his name. June locked eyes with Mr. Reed, his seemed to soften at her gaze. He felt sorry for her. He knew.

She was grateful she was sitting now. She couldn’t breathe. Nick. _Nick_. He was here. He brought her Hannah. She felt like the floor was tilted but she couldn’t stand still. After everything and after, what had felt like forever ago, he fulfilled his promise made to her.

“Nick?!” She breathed, standing abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor behind her at her fast moments. “He’s here?!” She leaned against the table; the floor still uneven under her feet. Mr. Reed had stood and rushed around the table, placing a hand on her forearm to steady her. She instinctively flinched out of his grasp.

_Nick._

“Ms. Osborne? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice drifting further away with each syllable. A ringing in her ears soon drowning everything out except the heartbeat in her throat.

She was leaning heavily upon the table, her knees weak. She wanted to run as far as she could but knew her legs physically couldn’t carry her. Her thoughts were rapid fire, attacking from every angle, not allowing time for processing before launching the next. How could she ever thank him? _How could she ever forgive him?_ For everything he didn’t tell her? For him being involved in the Crusade? For acting like he loved her but really, he was part of the reason she had suffered so tremendously. He had been her only light in Gilead, and he had hidden that from her.

_Unforgivable._

“June?!” Luke’s voice rang clear through her onslaught of thoughts. He was next to her in an instant, an arm around her supporting her weight.

“What did you do to her?!” He demanded of Mr. Reed.

She made herself look up and realized through bleary eyes that she had started crying, hot streams down her face. It all seemed in slow motion yet hyper speed at the same time. Her vision was unfocused but her mind would not stop running from her.

“Luke.” She sighed, sagging into him for the second time that day. She looped her arms around his neck and breathed him in. His scent of soap and laundry detergent instantly relaxing her, slowing her thoughts slightly. They were still flying through her mind too quickly. It was all crashing in on her, all her carefully constructed walls.

“I asked, ‘What did you do to her?’” Luke growled, turning his body so he was slightly between Mr. Reed and June, shielding her.

“Mr. Bankole, I was merely informing Ms. Osborne-“ His words were cut off by a deep sob, only faintly muffled from Luke’s chest.

Luke pulled her face from him, wiping her tears. “What’s wrong, June? Tell me what happened. I was only gone for a few minutes.” His tone was gentle, as if calming an animal. He rubbed his hands up her arms, down her sides and back up again, attempting to soothe her.

Is that what she had become to him? A fragile, frightened creature that needed coaxing and protecting?

“Its _him_ , Luke. He did this.” June could barely breathe through the tightness in her chest and the choking sobs. “ _Nick.”_ She finally cried out, shoving her face back into his chest, seeking any refuge from her feelings that she could. It was too much.

Luke was stunned, his hands freezing on her forearms. He went completely rigid around her. Neither of them had spoken that name. It had been a rule between the two of them, never agreed upon formally but still there.

June was unsure how exactly Luke felt about Nick. She suspected he was deeply conflicted with feelings of betrayal and understanding. She had cheated on him with Nick. Sure, she had other extramarital acts but those were not of her own volition. But with Nick, he had been her one choice, mostly, barring Serena Joy’s scheme to impregnate her. Did Luke resent him? Did he resent her for loving Nick while he was waiting for her?

“So, he brought Hannah to us. We are eternally grateful towards him.” Luke finally spoke, coolly. He resumed gently tracing his hands up and down June’s arms, but this time, it may have been to calm him. “I don’t understand why you would choose to tell June without me present as well.”

Mr. Reed cleared his throat, before answering quickly. “We are aware of the, um, nature of Ms. Osborne and Mr. Blaine’s relationship. I wanted to give the news to her in private, sir.” He spoke quickly, tinged with embarrassment, his voice lowering with each word.

June turned her head to answer, to say anything to diffuse the situation. It was all so complicated now.

“Mom?” A small voice from the doorway piped up. June’s gaze snapped and she pushed off Luke.

Hannah was standing in the doorway in normal clothes now, that suffocating pink outfit gone. She had a juice box in one hand and was holding the hand of a refugee center worker with the other. She gazed up at June with wide, beautiful brown eyes. June nearly melted.

“Hi, baby.” She closed the gap between them and kneeled before Hannah. She had been careful not to force her into hugs or other physical touch. She could only image how confused Hannah was after everything.

“Did you get a good snack?” June asked, trying to distract Hannah from the obviously tense scene she walked in on. She tried to nonchalantly wipe at her tearstained cheeks.

Hannah nodded, loudly slurping the last bits of juice from the box. “And I got to pick out my own clothes!” She informed June with a twirl, showing off the purple top, gray skirt, and black and white striped leggings. It warmed June’s heart to the point she thought fresh tears might spill again. Something so simple as picking out her own clothes was such a big deal.

“You look beautiful, baby.” June crooned.

She noticed that Luke and Mr. Reed were murmuring behind them still, voices hushed and quite different from a few minutes ago. She peered over her should to see their heads close together. What were they talking about?

Luke caught her gaze and forced a smile; he clapped his hand on Mr. Reed’s shoulder and muttered something before departing.

“Hi Banana,” Luke said softly, kneeling next to her. “How about you go with mom and she can show you our new home? Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“What? Where will you be?” June blurted out instinctively. Why did he make it seem like he wasn’t coming with?

“I just need to make a quick stop. Mr. Reed is going to call a car for you and Hannah, and I’ll be home soon enough.” He reached out and squeezed her hand, holding her gaze. _Trust me,_ he was saying. She knew that look well enough. She nodded.

“Okay, Hannah, let’s go wait for the car. I can’t wait to show you our house!” June tried to sound excited, for Hannah’s sake, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Luke was hiding something from her.

-

_“And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her.” His voice made goosebumps break out across June’s skin, thankfully covered by the long red dress. She knelt in front of him and Serena Joy as customary, eyes down cast._

_Fred snapped the Bible close, eyes boring into her. An insidious smile graced his lips. He_ liked _this. He liked the power, the control he dangled over her, over all of them. June could feel Nick’s shoe brush her own, a simple gesture, one that could be interpreted as an honest mistake. A way for him to let her know that he was there, that she was not alone._

June lurched awake, sitting up in bed. A cold sweat was thick on her skin, coating her, making her hair stick to the back of her neck. The dim moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting sharp shadows on the bed. Her heartbeat thudded in her head, breaths coming hard and fast.

_Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare._ She chanted over and over to herself. She was safe. There was no Ceremony here. She was in Canada with Luke, Holly, and… Hannah!

June snapped her eyes to the small curled up form of Hannah curled up against her side. She brought her hand up to gently brush her brows, furrowed in her sleep, just to make sure she was real. She was really here, with her.

Her heart began its slow decent after being reassured that she was indeed not in immediate danger. Hannah had hardly stirred at her violent awakening. She was purely exhausted. June could only imagine what her daughter had endured in crossing into Canada. Her heart clenched again in her chest.

Nick brought her back. Nick did this.

Everything she had neatly packed away from the day in order to get a modicum of sleep came flooding back, without her consent. Nicholas Blaine had been found just this side of the Canadian border with Hannah in tow. He was apprehended upon sight and taken in. Hannah had been taken separately, to the refugee center where they alerted Luke of her arrival.

June pushed back Hannah’s hair from her forehead. She knew she should be happy that her family was once again whole but… a piece was still missing.

After arriving home, Moira helped June get Hannah settled. She has already fed, bathed, and rocked Holly, having just put her down for the night when June arrived with Hannah. Moira couldn’t hide her tears as she greeted Hannah.

“Do you remember me?” She asked, wiping at the tears forming in her eyes. “Aunt Moira?”

Hannah clutched June’s hand hard. She slowly nodded her head. “A little.” She whispered before turning into June’s leg. It was all too much for her.

They had run her a bath and got her changed into some pajamas for the night. June gave her the option of where she wanted to sleep. When she said, “With you, mom.” It pierced through her heart. All she could do was smile and nod. If she dared to speak, her voice would have surely betrayed her.

June was about to drift off again, finally calmed from the nightmare when she heard the unmistakable sounds of someone trying to be quiet. The apartment door opened just enough for someone to slide in and the door closed too softly behind them. She found it funny how sounds seemed louder when someone was trying to be quiet. How creeping footsteps jarred us awake but normal every day sounds were just background noise. The light clicking sound of the locks sliding into place. The slow squeak of a floorboard. A knot formed in her stomach as light footsteps fell across the entry way and towards her door. It had been hours since her and Hannah left the center. He said he would follow shortly. Luke was hiding something.

She didn’t pretend to be asleep when Luke peeked around the door frame. Even in the dark their eyes locked and spoke volumes to each other. He nodded his head toward the kitchen, and she tried to slide out of bed without disturbing Hannah, who rolled in her sleep, pulling the blankets with her. June padded gently across the room and pulled the door closed. Hannah wasn’t used to the sounds of this house yet. Nothing here was normal to her. Did she have a normal anymore?

Luke was waiting for her in the kitchen, palms pressed against the edge of the counter and head down turned. The light over the sink cast a dim yellow glow across the small apartment kitchen.

June wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of what was to come. “Luke?” she called.

His head slowly turned toward her. He sighed and turned to lean back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were pleading her, for what, she didn’t know. Where has he been? Had he been with another woman? His daughter is finally with him and he bails? She wanted to fling accusations at him, but he wasn’t anymore guilty of those things than she was.

So, she plucked up her courage and straightened her spine. “Where have you been?” she asked, with conviction, her voice firm this time.

His reaction wasn’t promising. The knot in her stomach grew larger, encompassing her whole core. He averted his gaze.

“ _Luke._ ” She pressed.

A deep sigh passed his lips, he cradled his head with his hands.

“I went to see him.” He finally admitted, the words coming out twisted, like they clawed themselves out.

June froze, goosebumps breaking out across her body. She wanted to ask why? Why did he go? Why didn’t he ask her to go?

Luke shook his head and inhaled deeply. “I went to see the man my wife is in love with.” His eyes bore into her from across the kitchen. Her heart also seemed to freeze in her chest. “I went to thank him for bringing us Hannah. I wanted to tell him how grateful I was for him taking care of you and her while you were _there._ I wanted tell him how we’d love for him to be a part of Holly’s life and that you and I are okay, we are finding each other again.”

She glanced up at him. This was really happening. They were going to do this now. Without warning, her heart seemed to restart and coursed into overdrive, hammering against her ribs, pounding in her head. All she could do was tighten her grip on herself to keep from falling apart right there on the cheap linoleum floor.

“But I couldn’t tell him that. We aren’t okay. We aren’t fine. You are not fine, June. You’re wasting away. I can’t find you again June, because I lost you that day in Maine. I lost you and I’ll never get you back. Because you aren’t that person anymore and I have to accept that. I know that now.”

No words were coming to her, her defenses slamming up. Luke… He knew all these things she had tried to keep from him, to keep from hurting him. For the umptieth time that day, she felt warm tears prick at the inner corners of her eyes, teetering on spilling over. How had she gotten here?

“So…” He began again. “I want you to go see him.” Luke’s eyes were shining too. This was just as difficult for him.

Her gaze fell to the floor. She didn’t know if she had it within herself to see Nick. Would it change anything? Would it make things worse for her? Would it reopen the wound she keeps trying to stitch back up, the gaping hole in her chest that refused to heal?

Footsteps echoed off the kitchen floor as Luke crossed the short distance to her. He pulled her hands to his chest and kissed each knuckle, ignoring her instinctual flinch at the contact. She still wasn’t used to physical touch from anyone.

“June,” he called her eyes toward him. Once locked, she saw everything within his dark brown pools: hurt, love, and overall, concern for _her._ “June…” he continued, “I have to let you go. And if Nick can help you, if he is better for you than me, then far be it from me to hold you back.” There was a several-second pause before “He loves you June.” Luke squeeze her hands at that, echoing the squeeze on her heart in her chest.

“He said that?” A faint whisper as the air caught in her lungs, choked down by her restricting throat.

“He didn’t have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely thank everyone for their comments and kudos. It means a lot <3\. While I am well-versed in academic writing, I haven't flexed my creative writing muscles in a very long time. At this point, I don't have intentions to set an update schedule. I'm in grad school and have finals and papers due over the next couple weeks as well as starting a second job. Nevertheless, thank you for coming on this journey with me. - Quill


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